


Any Other Name

by RoseAsphodel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, Family Angst, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Love at First Sight, Secret Relationship, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-06 18:13:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12216231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseAsphodel/pseuds/RoseAsphodel
Summary: For Scorpius Malfoy, starting at Hogwarts means leaving his devoted parents and finding himself in a world where the name ‘Malfoy’ is synonymous with ‘Death Eater’. He has to reckon with the legacy of actions taken years before he was born, and answer for beliefs he has never held.For Rose Granger-Weasley, it’s the beginning of a glorious adventure. Barring anxiety over the Sorting that might separate her from her best friend Albus, she’s sure everything is going to be wonderful.Across platform 9 3/4, their eyes meet.





	Any Other Name

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic publication! Much more to come... eventually!  
> *Hold mouse over words to see translate. Conversations begun in French continue in French unless stated otherwise.  
> Many thanks to my wonderful proof readers!

What’s In a Name?  
Nor hand, nor foot,  
Nor arm, nor face.  
Without That Title  
Thou art thyself...

August 31st, 2017

Scorpius Malfoy was packing. His parents were in and out, fetching items, checking and rechecking his school list. His father seemed more tense by the minute. Shortly after he left to look over their travel arrangements for the third time, Scorpius’s mother returned to his room and deposited a few packages on the bed. She waved an airy hand with unaccustomed cheeriness.  
“Les friandises! Pour t'aider à faire des amis~!”  
“...Comment?”*  
Her voice returned to its habitual dry tones.  
“Because humans like people who feed them yummy things. It’s like training a dog. Children, especially, are greedy creatures that need to be managed with bribery.”  
“I don’t want friends I have to _bribe._ ”  
“Ah, you sweet, noble thing!” She ruffled and then smoothed his hair affectionately. “Think of it as a conversation starter: ‘Hey, want something delicious?’ is a much better opener than ‘I’m lonely, please talk to me’.”  
“Right. So if you think children are so terrible, why did you have one?”  
She smiled her sphinxlike smile.  
“Curiosity… among other things.”  
“What other things?”  
“Do you want a good reason or a bad reason?”  
“Both.”  
“Well, perhaps just a liiiittle bit… to appease your grandparents – speaking of bribery,” she said with a wicked twinkle.  
Scorpius raised his eyebrows. “That worked out perfectly.”  
His mother laughed delightedly. “Touché!”  
“And the other reason?”  
She was still smiling, but now there was something almost sad in it. She pulled him into a hug, and whispered, “Love.”  
She held him tight to her heart, rocking gently.  
“Whatever my reasons were, having you was the best thing I ever did. I’m going to miss you so, so much.”  
She kissed the top of his head, and then pressed her cheek to his hair.  
“Me too,” he whispered.  
They stayed that way for a long time.  
From his mother’s arms, Scorpius spoke again.  
“Dad’s afraid.”  
“Yes.”  
“Because of the war?”  
“In a way, yes. You’re going where he can’t protect you.”  
Scorpius looked up at her.  
“But the war ended twenty years ago.”  
“People remember; and some people are more inclined to remember that the Malfoys started off on the wrong side than that they changed before the end.”  
“So people think we’re bad?”  
“Some people probably will. But your father and I made sure to teach you everything we learned. You won’t make the same mistakes your grandfather and father did. You’re not them: you’re you. And I think everyone who gets to know you will see that… unless they’re very, very stupid; and you don’t need to care what stupid people think.”  
She smiled, and Scorpius smiled back somewhat tremulously.  
“You’ll find your people,” she said, and added wryly, “even I did, misanthrope though I am. And they’ll be so lucky to have you.”

September 1st

The air was cool and crisp, and the mist was bright white. It swirled around the scarlet train. The whole world was shining, and unknowable, and full of magic. Rose could hardly breathe from excitement as she stood on the platform in her new Hogwarts robes.  
“It’s almost quarter to; do you think they’re here yet?” said her mother slightly anxiously.  
“Could be; there’s no telling in this,” replied her father.  
“Is that them?” cried her brother, Hugo, pointing.  
Four figures were emerging from the steam. One of them was pushing a trolley. They got closer and closer before finally resolving into her cousin Albus and his family. Albus seemed troubled.  
“Hi,” he said to her, with a look of relief.  
Rose beamed encouragingly at him.  
“Parked alright, then?” said her dad to Uncle Harry. "I did. Hermione didn't believe I could pass a Muggle driving test, did you? She thought I'd have to Confound the examiner."  
"No, I didn't," said her mum. "I had complete faith in you."  
The two dads went to stow Albus’s trunk in the compartment where Rose’s was already waiting. Rose and Albus looked at each other.  
“Nice robes,” said Albus.  
“Thanks!”  
She took his hand and squeezed it.  
“This is it! We’re finally, actually, really going!”  
He gave her a nervous smile.  
“Yeah.”  
The smile faded as he listened to the nearby conversation.  
“... Teddy says Hufflepuff is the best! Molly says so, too, of course. I’d almost want to be in it if he was still at Hogwarts; but I’ll probably be in Gryffindor,” Lily was saying to Hugo. “You might be in Ravenclaw: you’re so good at drawing, just like Auntie Luna!”  
"If you're not in Gryffindor, we'll disinherit you," said Rose’s dad, returning from the train, "but no pressure."  
"Ron!"  
Lily and Hugo laughed. Rose felt her own nerves fluttering, and exchanged a tense look with Albus.  
“He doesn’t mean it,” chorused the two mums. Rose’s dad ignored them; he was looking in another direction.  
“Look who it is,” he said. The grownups all turned to followed his gaze.  
Rose looked, too. The mist had cleared away to reveal three more people: a man, a woman, and a boy Rose’s age. Like the man, the boy had white blonde hair and a pointed face. His expression was grave. _Oh_ , thought Rose, _he’s cute_ …  
He glanced towards them. His gaze fell on Rose; for a moment, their eyes met.  
“So that’s little Scorpius,” murmured her dad. Rose looked away hastily. _Scorpius… Malfoy?_  
“Make sure you beat him in every test, Rosie. Thank God you inherited your mother’s brains.” Rose felt her face grow warm.  
"Ron, for heaven's sake," her mum said; her admonitory tone was undercut with amusement. "Don't try to turn them against each other before they've even started school!"  
"You're right, sorry," said her dad, but then he added, "Don't get too friendly with him, though, Rosie. Granddad Weasley would never forgive you if you married a pureblood."  
Her stomach swooped and her face burned. She was trying to muster a suitably indignant reply when her cousin James appeared. He was breathless with intelligence about Teddy and Victoire. Rose wasn’t quite sure what was such a big deal - they’d been dating for ages - but she was glad of the distraction.  
Uncle Harry looked at his watch.  
"It's nearly eleven, you'd better get on board."  
Rose hugged her mother tightly.  
“Don’t forget to write! You’ll do amazingly.”  
Her dad scooped her right up off the ground in a bear hug.  
“Maybe when I see you again you’ll be too big for me to do this anymore!”  
“It’ll only be a few months!”  
Her dad gave a world-weary sigh. “A lot can happen in a few months,” he said portentously.  
She giggled. “Maybe I’ll come back taller than you.”  
“Oh, I wouldn’t go quite that far,” he replied, grinning. “But your mother should probably start worrying.”  
He put her down. She hugged her Aunt Ginny and her brother, and then climbed onto the train. Albus was listening earnestly to his father. Rose took a seat by the train window for some final farewells.  
Her dad became mock serious again.  
“Now, mind you do your homework, young lady.”  
She rolled her eyes with exasperated amusement. “ _Dad_...”  
“I’ll keep Dad out of trouble for you,” said Hugo. They all laughed. Their dad put an arm around Hugo’s shoulder in a half hug. Rose waved at Lily and Aunt Ginny.  
Doors started slamming along the train. Albus hurried into the compartment and his mother closed the door behind him. He joined Rose at the window and they leaned out, taking in the scene. A lot of their fellow students seemed to be looking in their direction.  
"Why are they all staring?" asked Albus.  
"Don't let it worry you," said her dad. "It's me, I'm extremely famous."  
They laughed again; Albus joined in. His conversation with his father seemed to have lifted a weight off his mind. He and Rose waved to their families as the train began to move. It gathered speed - Hugo and Lily were racing each other to keep up - it got faster and faster - and then it rounded a corner, and they were gone. Rose and Albus stayed where they were until the buffeting wind got too strong, then stepped back and closed the window. Rose had too much energy to sit down. She shared another ecstatic look with Albus, and moved into the centre of the compartment, where she twirled with her arms spread wide so that her robes billowed around her. She came to a halt with a flourish.  
“You should put yours on, Albus!”  
“Alright.” He set about rummaging in his trunk.  
Rose pulled out her wand reverently and began practicing making sparks of different colours. As Albus shrugged into his robes, she began spinning again, slowly, waving her wand through the air in loops and coils, emitting an unbroken stream of sparkles that shifted seamlessly between shades. She gradually accelerated, raising her wand higher and changing hues faster. Albus found his own wand and began contributing complementary showers. The room was filled with twinkling lights. Rose finished off with a rainbow burst; she overbalanced slightly and corrected herself with a tiny yelp, laughing. Albus and Rose faced each other. They crossed wands, and then held them in front of themselves like duellists. They bowed low and then commenced a mock battle, twirling their wands, play ducking, calling out approximations of spells they’d heard of, or else just making sound effects, and occasionally shooting out more sparks for verisimilitude.  
“ _Expelliarmus!_ ” cried Albus; Rose’s wand twitched in her hand. She gasped. They gaped at each other, eyes wide.  
“Wow, Albus! Cool!” They grinned at each other again, and then bowed solemnly, before settling down opposite each other by the window. They watched the buildings begin to thin and give way to countryside.  
Rose turned to Albus.  
“You seemed really worried earlier; were you thinking about the Sorting?”  
“Yeah. James was saying I might be in Slytherin.”  
Rose was indignant.  
“That’s stupid! You shouldn’t let James get to you,” she urged.  
“I know…”  
“The Sorting really isn’t something to joke about,” she said sympathetically. “It’s a really big deal. It can change your whole life! I mean just think, my mum said she was almost in Ravenclaw, but if she had been, I probably wouldn’t have been born.”  
“Yeah. And then there’s Peter Pettigrew and Severus Snape.”  
Rose bit her lip. “Yeah.”  
“What if we’re in different Houses?” Al was anxious again.  
Rose shared his fear. “I’ve worried about the same thing. If my mum was almost in Ravenclaw, maybe I might be actually in it. Do you think you could be in Ravenclaw?”  
“I don’t know.”  
“What did your dad say to you just now?”  
“He said it won’t matter to him if I’m in Slytherin. I was named for one, who was the bravest person he ever knew. And he said the Sorting Hat lets you choose - it let him choose to be in Gryffindor instead of Slytherin.”  
Rose boggled. “No way!”  
“Yeah.”  
Rose took another moment to digest this momentous revelation, and then said, “Well, Slytherin can’t be bad then!”  
“I’d still rather not be in it.”  
“Yeah,” agreed Rose. “Anyway, no matter what, we’ll still be friends!”  
“Always,” said Albus.  
They were silent for a moment.  
“Even if we don’t share a Common Room we can find other places to hang out,” said Rose. “Like the library. And your mum shared classes with Luna, so we’ll probably have some classes together at least.”  
“Neville said they’re thinking about having House tables only for feasts, and having year group tables for normal meals instead, to encourage inter-house friendship.”  
“Oh! That’s a good idea; I hope they do that.”  
The door slid open and their cousin Molly came bustling in.  
“ _There_ you are! I’ve been searching the whole train for you!”  
She was carrying a large container, which she placed on one of the seats in order to free her arms: she then swooped down on her cousins to enfold them in affectionate hugs.  
“Welcome, welcome! This is so exciting - I can’t believe you two are already starting at Hogwarts! Remember, of course, that if you have any questions or concerns, I’ll be more than happy to help you out.”  
She picked up the container again, opened it, and offered it to Rose and Albus.  
“Cream puff? I made them this morning. The flavours are chocolate, caramel and cinnamon spice.”  
Her round cheeks dimpled mischievously and her eyes twinkled behind her glasses. “Don’t tell my dad: I used some of his firewhiskey!”  
Albus and Rose chorused their thanks and availed themselves of the proffered pastry.  
“Yum! How did you have time to bake this morning?” marveled Rose.  
“Oh I always get my packing done well in advance - with experience it’s perfectly straightforward. It's always nice to have something to share with people on the train! And I'd hate to miss my last baking opportunity - not that there's not plenty of delicious food at Hogwarts, of course! In fact… I might point out that proximity to the kitchens is a real perk of being in Hufflepuff. But then, I shouldn't try to influence you. There's already far too much pressure around Sorting!”  
Albus and Rose happily savoured the last of their cream puffs without bothering to point out that overwhelming pressure to be in Hufflepuff was not among their concerns.  
Seeing that they had finished, Molly produced some napkins for them, and then gathered up her tin.  
“Come on! Let's go see everyone!”  
They made happy, if rather slow, progress up the train. Molly stopped in to visit all of their cousins: Fred and James, with their boisterous gang; Louis and his fellow second year Ravenclaws; Dominique with her boyfriend and their fifth year friends from various houses. Victoire was occupied with her Head Girl duties, but they met her patrolling the corridor, and Molly successfully thrust a cream puff upon her. Victoire proceeded to demonstrate her near-miraculous ability to look utterly cool and beautiful even while eating a dessert that was trying its best to give her a mustache. Rose spotted the boy from the platform - Scorpius - in a compartment with a bunch of other first years. Molly introduced them to her acquaintances from other houses, and then they settled down for lunch with her group of Hufflepuff fourth years. Molly’s best friend Alice Summerby had brought some homemade cupcakes. They had a sugary feast while Molly and her friends filled Rose and Albus in on the Hogwarts staff, and then whiled away the rest of the afternoon playing exploding snap.

Most of the carriages were full. As he made his way down the train, Scorpius kept an eye out for the redheaded girl from the platform, but didn’t see her. Eventually he spotted a compartment that contained a few solitary-looking first years. He entered and asked, “May I sit here?”, catalyzing a slew of hesitant glances as the compartment’s occupants all looked to someone else to show ownership of the space. No one did, and Scorpius was answered with several belated nods and a muttered “sure”. He stowed his trunk and sat, with a shy smile around the room. It was answered by a skinny boy with light brown hair and freckles who was seated across from him.  
“Hi”  
“Hi”  
“I’m Tom Vincy.”  
“Scorpius Malfoy.” He extended a hand; Tom Vincy shook it with a slightly surprised expression.  
“So, um, do lots of wizards have names like that? You’re from a wizard family, right?”  
“Yeah; names like what?”  
“Like, sort of … unusual? Kind of… grand, or old fashioned. Like ‘Minerva’. Not normal names like Daniel or Liam or Emily and things like that.”  
“We have those names too. They all seem normal to me,” said Scorpius with a shrug.  
Tom laughed nervously. “I guess they would, since you grew up with them. Part of me still can’t believe magic exists, even though I suppose I’ve had it all my life. There’s so much I don’t know about the wizarding world!”  
“You’ll pick it up,” said Scorpius reassuringly. “We’ll all be learning a lot about magic.”  
“You know, I tried Googling it to see if I could learn more, after I got my Hogwarts letter, but there was absolutely nothing! It was so weird.”  
“Goo- what?”  
“Google. You know, for searching the internet…?”  
Scorpius looked blankly. “I’ve heard of that - what is it again?”  
Tom was thunderstruck. “You don’t know what the internet is?? It’s like, everything! You can talk to people anywhere, get news, music…”  
“Like radio?”  
“Wizards have radio?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Kind of like that, but it has so much more. You get it through computers. It’s like a giant library, and you can choose to do whatever you want. You can ask questions, read stuff, play games, watch videos…”  
The girl next to Tom had lifted her head from her book.  
“You guys are talking about the internet?”  
‘Yeah; you know it?” said Tom eagerly.  
“Yeah!”  
“Are you norm- from a Muggle family as well?”  
“I’m a half-blood. My mum is a software developer, and my dad works for the Ministry of Magic – Department of Cyber Secrecy.”  
“Ministry of Magic?”  
“It’s like the wizard government. Only most of what they do is make sure Muggles don’t find out about magic.”  
“Oh! I was just saying how I tried to google Hogwarts when I first got my letter, and I couldn’t find anything about real magic!”  
“Yup! That’s my dad’s job.”  
“So some wizards do have computers?”  
“Um… I don’t think most would, outside Ministry work. But mixed families probably do.”  
“Then… Hogwarts won’t have internet?” asked Tom, dismayed.  
“No. Magic tends to make Muggle technology go pretty haywire. Some of it can be made to work with special enchantments, but Hogwarts is so steeped in magic that it would probably be difficult,” the girl said knowledgeably.  
“Oh _no_ ,” said Tom.  
“I know,” said the girl commiseratingly. “But at least it’ll be harder to get distracted from schoolwork?”  
Tom groaned, and they both laughed.  
“I’m Tom, by the way; what’s your name?”  
“Keerthi.”  
From there they began happily interrogating each other about internet things; it was quickly uncovered that they had several favourite games, ‘sites’ and ‘channels’ in common. Scorpius was soon lost in the flurry of unfamiliar names and terms. He kept listening for a bit, but it became obvious that he wasn’t part of their conversation anymore.  
His attention wandered to the compartment’s other inhabitants: the two girls seated by the window, perhaps emboldened by the cover of adjacent chatter, had struck up their own conversation. Two more first years had entered since Scorpius’s arrival, and were now talking about Quidditch; or rather, one of them - a rather tall, sturdily built boy with a confident manner - was talking loudly about Quidditch while the girl seated opposite him nodded and occasionally tried, unsuccessfully, to get a word in edgewise.  
Scorpius turned his attention towards the scenery outside. For awhile he absently watched the sheep-spotted countryside pass by, until he realized that with four people between him and the window, it might look like he was staring at them – perhaps trying to butt back in to Tom and Keerthi’s conversation – or resenting them their window seats. He turned away, trying not to look awkward, but there wasn’t much else to see – the luggage rack, the floor, his hands. The tall boy was still going on about Quidditch.  
Scorpius was just debating if it would draw attention to his awkwardness to get up and extract a book from his trunk, when there was a welcome interruption:  
“Anything from the trolley, dears?”  
Several people scrambled to their feet and hastened to avail themselves of trolley goods. In the generalised bustle Scorpius retrieved his own snack stockpile and his copy of _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade One_ – just in case. Happily, he didn’t need it: the trolley interlude seemed to have derailed the previous conversations, and the first years were now setting about eating in a renewed silence. Scorpius seized his chance.  
“Would you like a jelly slug?”  
He proffered the bag to Tom, who took one with a smile.  
“Thanks! I’ve never heard of these – they’re a wizard thing?”  
“Yeah, I guess so,” said Scorpius, offering the bag to Keerthi, who also accepted cheerfully. He held out the bag in turn to the two girls by the window, and then turned to the one on his other side.  
“Jelly slug?”  
“Oh, thanks; what’s your name, sorry?”  
“Scorpius Malfoy.”  
“Phoebe Clinch.”  
They shook hands. The tall boy, seated across from them, had looked over as they exchanged names, and was now staring at Scorpius with an odd expression on his face – barely disguised hostility, mixed with something almost eager.  
Scorpius’s heart sank and his stomach gave an uncomfortable twist, but he offered a hand with determined polite friendliness.  
“And yours?”  
“Declan McLaggen.”  
He didn’t take Scorpius’s hand. Scorpius withdrew it, and felt his face flushing.  
“Mm, this is kind of like gummy worms, or gummy bears,” Tom observed thoughtfully over his jelly slug. “It’s so weird that wizards even have different sweets!”  
This naturally inspired a lengthy discussion of the respective merits of wizard and muggle confectionary. Tom and Phoebe discovered a mutual passion for maltesers. Scorpius and Keerthi both loved pepper imps; Scorpius provided some to the others, and they spent several minutes happily smoking at the mouth. Phoebe then passed around a box of chocolate frogs, and it turned out she and Keerthi both collected the cards. McLaggen was apparently reluctant to join a conversation that included a Malfoy, but here he couldn’t resist announcing that _his_ chocolate frog collection contained over seven hundred cards.  
The girl next to Keerthi, whose name was revealed to be Lucretia, shared pieces of a bar of Honeydukes milk chocolate. The absence of any conspicuous enchantment inspired Tom to observe that, in the end, muggle and wizard sweets weren’t that different, because everyone liked chocolate. Everyone pondered the truth of this inspiring fact while relishing their creamy mouthfuls.  
Scorpius opened his packet of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans, to Phoebe’s trepidation, and the delight of the girl next to Scorpius whose name he still hadn’t caught. The first years were thoroughly entertained for the next few minutes by the thrills of surprise apricot, scrambled egg, pistachio, beet, candy floss, and finally Tom’s spluttering over the ‘really fishy’ taste of a black bean that Scorpius hypothesised was caviar.  
Inspired by this, Tom asked the group, “Hey, what’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever eaten? I tried squid once.”  
“Someone once tricked me into eating tongue,” said Phoebe darkly.  
“I ate chicken feet at dim sum,” said Keerthi, to general appreciation. She looked to Lucretia, who shrugged and asked the girl next to Scorpius, “What about you, Agnieska? Is there some weird Polish food you’ve tried?”  
“Well, there’s flaczki, I suppose - tripe soup. But it’s not weird, it’s really good!”  
“My dad,” said McLaggen, unable to contain himself any longer, “once ate a pound of doxy eggs for a bet. He ended up in the hospital wing and missed keeper tryouts; he would've been a shoo-in for the Gryffindor quidditch team-”  
“Well, I've eaten scorpion,” interjected Scorpius, more forcefully than he'd intended. He didn't want McLaggen to turn the conversation back to quidditch.  
The first years were awestruck.  
“Scorpion!”  
“Wow…”  
“Where were you?”  
“What's it like?”  
“I was at a night market in Beijing. It's pretty good! I mean, almost anything can be nice fried. It's a bit like crab.”  
“I've never eaten crab…” said Phoebe dubiously.  
“They eat some crazy stuff in other countries!” said Tom. “Isn't there a place where they eat termites?”  
“Apparently frogs’ legs are a specialty in Spain,” said Agnieszka.  
Scorpius corrected her automatically. “No, that's France. My grandmother is French. I've had those too.”  
Agnieszka coloured slightly and looked affronted. There was an awkward pause. Scorpius blushed too. He was about to apologise, when Keerthi spoke again.  
“So does anyone have any idea which house they’re going to be in?” she asked, by way of reviving the conversation.  
“I don’t know about Hogwarts houses,” said Tom.  
“Neither,” agreed Agnieszka. “My mum went to Żabrołak.”  
“Gryffindor is the best,” proclaimed McLaggen. “My dad was in it – it’s the house for the bravest and strongest. Slytherin is the worst, of course – it’s full of dark wizards and You-Know-Who supporters.”  
“Not all Slytherins are like that,” objected Scorpius. “Just a bunch of famous ones. My mother was in Slytherin, and she hated it when the Dark Lord was in power.”  
McLaggen eyed him skeptically. “Well, _your_ mother can’t have hated ‘The Dark Lord’ _that_ much.”  
“What’s _that_ supposed-“, began Scorpius, but Keerthi intervened.  
“I’ve always thought Ravenclaw sounded good. It’s known for having the most intelligent students. But then, I am biased – it was my dad’s house.”  
“So, there’s Ravenclaw, Slytherin and Griff-something...” fumbled Tom. “Is that it?”  
“Gryffindor,” supplied Lucretia. “And there are four houses; the other one is Hufflepuff.”  
“What’s it like?”  
“They’re meant to be fair-minded and hard-working,” said Keerthi. “Some people think they’re useless, but my dad says Hufflepuffs are really lovely.”  
“That sounds nice,” said Tom.  
The conversation sagged. Scorpius left in search of the bathroom.  
The others found something to talk about in his absence.  
The compartment door was ajar, and as he returned Scorpius heard:  
“… bad guys lost, how come his family didn’t go to prison or-”  
The talk died as Scorpius re-entered the room. He caught the tail end of a few alarmed and guilty glances as he sat down. Tom was looking confused and upset. No one would meet his eyes - except McLaggen; his gaze was defiant, triumphant. Scorpius’s stomach was lead. The silence in the compartment stretched. Scorpius took refuge in his book. McLaggen helpfully decided to give Tom an intimately detailed explanation of the rules of Quidditch.  
Outside, the clear sky began to cloud over; the afternoon sunlight coming through the window was periodically choked off by patches of gloom. Scorpius could feel the glances of the others like pebbles on a window. He couldn’t focus; the words on the page were slipping past, and he could only think about other words: ‘ _Dark wizards…_ Your _mother… You-Know-Who-supporters... his family... The Dark Lord… Slytherin. Malfoy._ ’  
Tom muttered something about a bathroom, and left the compartment. McLaggen was obliged to discontinue his monologue. The silence returned: it seemed to have curdled even further in its absence; it filled the compartment like a rancid smell.  
Scorpius couldn’t take it anymore. He put away his book, and went to explore the train.  
Was it just him, or were people staring? Scorpius knew he looked like his father, and his grandfather - and the other Malfoy portraits. Would people know him by his appearance? No, most of them ignored him. But - was that a double take? What was that person whispering about?  
He reached the end of the train and found a window. The landscape outside had grown wild. He watched the mountains and lakes pass by as the sky turned gold, then orange. The sun disappeared behind some clouds, outlining their blue smudges in radiance. He wondered what his parents were doing; they were probably at home by now, unless they’d decided to go out for dinner. He hoped his father was doing alright.  
The land grew dim. Inside the train the lights came on. Scorpius noticed his own reflection, shadowy and pale in the glass. A sliver of sun reappeared: it sent a beam of brilliant rose light flooding into the valley, painting the clouds’ bellies pink for one brief, perfect moment, before sinking out of sight.  
Night fell. A passing Prefect informed him that they would be arriving in Hogsmeade soon, and suggested he return to his compartment. Scorpius put it off as long as he could, but as the train began to slow he knew he had no choice.  
He hurried down the corridor. Suddenly something caught him around the ankles, and he fell, hard. He stayed stunned on the ground, wrists and ears ringing from the shock of impact, until he realized he was hearing laughter. He got to his feet; there was nothing nearby that could have tripped him. He went to the nearest compartment and saw a group of still-smirking Gryffindor third years busying themselves about removing their trunks from the overhead racks. Scorpius stepped forwards and blocked the door.  
“What was that for?”  
A boy with untidy auburn hair and laughing brown eyes answered, grinning:  
“Maybe you tripped over your own feet.”  
He shot a look at a friend with red hair and a generous smattering of freckles on his light brown skin, who grinned back.  
“I didn’t – that was a jinx, and it came from one of you,” said Scorpius, glaring around the compartment.  
“If you say so,” said the redhead, turning his sunny smile on Scorpius. The group was laughing again.  
“Now, do you mind…?” The boy with untidy hair indicated the blocked doorway, moving forward with his trunk in tow.  
“Yeah, I do,” snapped Scorpius. “That was a lousy thing to do, attacking an innocent bystander without warning - nice example of Gryffindor courage and chivalry. I hope you feel really great about yourselves, hypocrites.”  
The hilarity vanished.  
“Innocent? We know who you are, _Malfoy_ ,” said the untidy haired boy.  
“You’re one to talk about courage – your whole family are stinking Slytherins!”  
“- Going on about ‘blood purity’ -“  
“- using your money to ruin everything -”  
“- worming out of trouble. Lucius Malfoy was in You-Know-Who’s _inner circle._ -”  
“- And your dad was a coward and a git!” finished the red haired boy.  
Scorpius lunged for him – but the messy haired boy was ready.  
“ _Petrificus totalus!_ ”  
Scorpius stiffened, immobilized; his momentum carried him on and he toppled towards the red haired boy, who sidestepped neatly out of the way –  
_CRUNCH_  
Scorpius smashed face first into a trunk and rolled to the floor, where he came to rest on his back, still paralysed, blood pouring from his broken nose. There was a shocked silence.  
“Wow, James…” breathed one of the third years, glancing at the boy with untidy hair.  
“Should we…?” ventured another anxiously. They looked down at Scorpius. He answered their gaze with the most poisonous glare he could command.  
“Let’s go,” muttered James uncomfortably.  
They shuffled guiltily out of the compartment, joining the last of the stream of students leaving the train.  
Scorpius was left alone, bleeding on the floor. He couldn’t move. His eyes were stinging - because of his nose; he _wasn’t_ crying - he was too angry to cry.  
It wasn’t _fair_.  
They'd never met him before, knew nothing about him… except his name. And they hated him for it. Hated him, because of things his family had done years before he was born.  
He didn't even know what those things were, exactly: nobody ever talked about the war. He’d heard his grandfather complaining over the paper about mudblood filth and wizarding society going to the dogs, and had seen his grandmother's lip curl in disgust at all things muggle - but he knew that they were _wrong_ ; his mother - and his father - had always said so. And he had met his mother’s muggle friends and seen for himself: _“they’re just like wizards; just as good, and just as bad.”_  
His mother had talked about the war, once. She had told him how the Malfoys were on the wrong side.  
“ _When people are raised to believe certain things, it can be very hard to stop believing in them. And when people believe in things that are wrong, they can do bad things._ ”  
And yet, his grandmother had saved Harry Potter’s life. After the war, Harry Potter had vouched for them - for his grandparents, and for his father.  
His father - “a coward and a git.” They didn't know him, either. _His father wasn't bad_.  
“ _Your father got mixed up with terrible people, and saw some terrible things. It hurt him very much. He’s not the same person he was then._ ”  
His father still woke screaming in the night. Whoever he'd been, whatever he'd done, hadn't he been through enough? What could he have done, what could any of the Malfoys have done, that justified treating them - treating Scorpius - like this?  
“ _We know who you are_ , Malfoy.”  
It wasn't right. It wasn't justice.  
His nose throbbed. The blood was hot and sticky on his face. It tickled his ear. It dripped into his hair.  
He heard someone approaching. A huge man appeared; he was so tall and so broad that he seemed to fill the entire compartment. His wiry tangle of hair brushed the ceiling. His beetle black eyes regarded Scorpius with a look of surprise and concern, and something in his face told Scorpius that he knew who Scorpius was.  
The giant - or rather, half-giant; Scorpius remembered hearing that there was a half-giant teacher at Hogwarts - pulled a pink umbrella out of a pocket of his enormous moleskin overcoat. He cleared his throat with a slightly wary look at Scorpius, and then tapped him with the umbrella. To Scorpius's intense and immediate relief, his muscles loosened: he could move again.  
“There yeh go,” said the giant.  
Scorpius sat up. The blood running down the back of his throat shifted, and he tasted a wave of acridness. He let out a slight cough and held up his hands to try and stop it dripping down his front. The giant was rummaging about in his pockets. He produced a massive polka-dotted handkerchief, which he handed to Scorpius.  
“Here.”  
“Thanks.”  
“They can fix yer nose no problem up a’ th’ castle,” he said reassuringly. “Reckon yeh’ll be alrigh’ ‘til then?”  
“I'b fine,” said Scorpius thickly from the depths of the handkerchief.  
The giant offered a hand, and helped Scorpius to his feet. 

Out on the platform, Rose, Albus and the other first years were shivering in the gusty night air, more from excitement than from cold. After what felt like a rather long delay, Hagrid reappeared with Scorpius in tow. The latter looked very much worse for wear. He was still wearing his street clothes. His hair was tousled, and about his ears it was dotted with blood, dark against the white blonde. His face was also blood-streaked, where it was visible - most of it was hidden behind the very large spotted handkerchief that he was clutching to his nose. He followed Hagrid up to the front of the group, where Rose and Albus were waiting. Up close Rose saw his eyes were somewhat red; it only made them seem more intensely grey. He glanced at her, and Rose realised she was probably staring. She hastily looked away, blushing.  
“Alrigh’; we're all here now? Le’ 's go! Watch yer feet!” called Hagrid.  
Rose hurried after him, and Albus and the other first years followed single file along a dark, narrow path. They walked through the trees in silence for some minutes, until Hagrid called out,  
“Yeh’ll be gettin’ yer firs’ look at Hogwarts jus’ roun’ the nex’ bend!”  
The path opened out on the shores of a lake. Across the water, a magnificent castle stood high on a hill. Its towers and turrets were sprinkled with the lights of a hundred fires, orange-gold against the luminous blue-black of the sky. Rose felt as though her heart might burst. She turned to Albus and breathed, “it’s so beautiful!” They squeezed each other’s hands. The other students were also gasping in admiration.  
“No more’n four per boat!”  
Rose then noticed the small fleet lined up along the shore. Scorpius was already moving towards the nearest boat, which he clambered into one-handed. Albus and Rose followed, and another girl came after them.  
“Right then, tha’s everyone? Forward!”  
The little boats propelled themselves across the lake. The dark surface was ruffled by the wind, and the gibbous moon left a trail of crinkled silver over the water. Clouds of ghostly grey were scudding across the sky. Rose felt a tingle of destiny as she watched Hogwarts draw nearer and nearer. She snuck a glance at Scorpius and saw that he wasn’t looking at the castle; he was gazing up at the stars.  
The boats sailed through a curtain of ivy into a tunnel. The first years disembarked at an underground harbour, and then followed Hagrid up through a stone passageway and out onto the castle lawn. When they reached the huge oak doors, Hagrid knocked three times. The doors opened. Neville - Professor Longbottom - was silhouetted against the light flooding from the Entrance Hall.  
“The firs’ years, Professor Longbottom. We ‘ad a bi’ o’ an incident on the train,” said Hagrid, nodding briefly towards Scorpius.  
“Thank you, Hagrid, I can take them from here,” replied Professor Longbottom.  
He ushered them across the cobblestones of the vast Entrance Hall, and through a smaller door beside the large one whence issued the sounds of the rest of the school. As the other first years filed past, Neville pulled Scorpius aside and mended his nose, then muttered an additional spell and waved his wand again, clearing away the blood coating Scorpius’s face. Professor Longbottom then addressed all the first years, explaining the house system and announcing the impending Sorting Ceremony. He left the room. The group had barely any time to stew anxiously before he returned to lead them into the Great Hall.  
Rose felt, if possible, even more excited than she had been. Now she really was here, in the very heart of Hogwarts. It was radiant: golden light shone from the hundreds of floating candlesticks, and reflected off the golden goblets and plates which covered the four long house tables. She gazed in awe at the enchanted ceiling, catching another glimpse of the silver moon and racing clouds, as her mother’s voice echoed in her memory: “it’s bewitched to look like the sky outside…”. She imagined it filled with the light of dawn, in the moment of triumph, when Lord Voldemort’s body fell to the floor - perhaps, she thought with a chill, onto the very place she was walking over right now.  
They reached the front of the hall. Neville - _Professor Longbottom_ \- brought in a rickety four-legged stool, and placed the Sorting Hat on it. It was much dirtier and shabbier looking than Rose had expected; it was very strange to think of it being in battles and producing the Sword of Gryffindor. But at the same time, those stories had never felt so real. She looked at Neville and felt another chill of wonder. The chill nearly turned into a shiver; she was very nervous now. She almost wished she could take Albus’s hand, but didn’t want to look childish. Everyone in the hall was staring at the hat. A rip near the brim opened, and the hat began to sing:

_For generations Hogwarts has  
Withstood the test of time  
Its teachers wise, its students proud,  
Its halls of learning fine!_

_But long ago, too often  
Magic was misunderstood,  
And lonely witches, wizards,  
taught themselves as best they could. _

_In these dark times four sorcerers  
United to construct  
A sanctuary for their art,  
To shelter and instruct._

_‘Twas Ravenclaw, that brightest mind  
Who first conceived the vision;  
Then Slytherin turned airy thought  
Into burning ambition._

_To this endeavour Gryffindor  
Committed without fear;  
And Hufflepuff, she got to work  
With patience and with cheer._

_In their great quest the Founders Four  
Encountered opposition;  
Against which one alone would have  
Been driven to submission._

_But with the strengths of all the Founders  
Working side by side,  
Barriers thought unbreakable  
Were merely brushed aside._

_To each dilemma Ravenclaw  
Brought her intelligence,  
While Hufflepuff contributed  
Her fair, kind common sense. _

_Brave Gryffindor strode boldly forth  
On each fresh battleground  
While wily, cunning Slytherin  
Found crafty ways around._

_Now Hogwarts has four Houses,  
And in each they celebrate  
The fine, outstanding qualities  
That made their Founder great._

_It’s my role to divide you,  
But first let me impart  
That though each house is mighty, they’re  
Much weaker when apart._

_So go your way, and find your place  
In one among the four,  
But remember that together  
You’ll accomplish so much more!_

The Great Hall erupted into applause when the hat had finished. Professor Longbottom came forward.  
“When I read out your name, please sit on the stool and put the hat on. When the hat announces your house, go join their table:  
Agbaje, Gloria”  
A girl with black hair in a large number of braids hurried over to the stool and put the hat on. It was so big it dropped right over her eyes. After some moments of silence the rip above the brim opened once more, and the hat cried out:  
“GRYFFINDOR!”  
Neville lifted the hat off Gloria's head as the table on the far left burst into applause. She went to take a seat as 'Ames, Hector’ took her place on the stool.  
“HUFFLEPUFF!”  
The school applauded again; this time it was the table furthest to the right that clapped the loudest as the new student joined their ranks.  
The sorting progressed: 'Choo, Priscilla’, joined ‘Aubrey, Stephen’ at the Slytherin table after 'Belby, Arnold’ and ‘Boot, Samuel’ had both been welcomed into Ravenclaw. The first years, in varying states of terror - and with varying levels of success at hiding it - continued to have their fates decided one by one.  
“Clinch, Phoebe.”  
“HUFFLEPUFF!”  
‘Dundas’... ‘Elster’… ‘Fawley’... Rose's stomach gave a lurch: ‘G’ was next.  
Not immediately, however: 'Fitch, Rebecca’ was sorted before 'Gallagher, Joseph’s’ name was called, and ‘Gardner, Eleanor’ spent almost five torturous minutes under the hat, before it finally called out, “HUFFLEPUFF!”  
Rose almost stepped forward at the beginning of the next name, but stopped herself just in time to let ‘Graham, Tyler’ go first.  
“Granger-Weasley, Rose”  
She sat on the stool with her heart in her throat.  
The hat spoke inside her head.  
“ _I see someone has a healthy respect for the importance of this moment. You needn’t have worried so much about being in Ravenclaw, you know; you may have the brains, but your heart will win over your head every time._ GRYFFINDOR!”  
Rose felt the rush of relief and joy throughout her whole body. The hat was lifted from her head and she almost ran to the Gryffindor table, amidst a warm round of applause, to which Victoire, Dominique, James, and Fred (and Molly, over at the Hufflepuff table) were contributing enthusiastically.  
Rose took a seat next to Fred and James. Her nerves returned when she looked back to where a faint-looking Albus was still standing in line.  
‘Hammond’... ‘Jessep’… ‘Kemp’…  
Scorpius Malfoy was very conspicuous in his muggle clothing. Amidst the sea of black-robed students he seemed almost as pale as one of the ghosts.  
It was nearly his turn now: ‘Lal, Keerthi’ and ‘Lowenthal, Ruth’ were both Ravenclaws; ‘Łukasiak, Agnieszka’ was sitting down at the Gryffindor table when Professor Longbottom read out his name.  
“Malfoy, Scorpius.”  
There was a ripple of whispering as students more familiar with the events of the war enlightened those around them as to why the name ‘Malfoy’ sounded familiar.  
“Malfoy?”  
“That family were Death Eaters.”  
“Why isn’t he wearing his robes?”  
“He’s probably the reason they were late; I’m _starving,_ ” moaned a fourth year resentfully.  
Next to Rose James fidgeted slightly.  
Rose watched Scorpius Malfoy step forward and take a seat on the stool. His hands in his lap were balled into fists. Before the hat dropped over his eyes, his last look around the Great Hall was defiant.

A small voice spoke inside his head.  
_“Well, well; someone’s having a bad day,”_  
The voice seemed mocking, self-satisfied. Scorpius felt another surge of anger.  
_“Let’s see… you’re a clever one: proud; tenacious; independent – Salazar Slytherin would’ve liked you… After all, you are a Malfoy.”_  
The anger reached boiling point. It was all Scorpius could do to remain seated, and stop himself from yelling aloud.  
_You don’t know me! You’re just like everyone else: thinking you know everything about me and can treat me however you want just because of my name! How_ dare _you! I’m not what you think - I’m not what anyone thinks._ No one _has any right to tell me who I am!_  
The hat didn’t respond with words; instead, Scorpius felt something almost like the mental equivalent of a laugh, and then he heard the hat cry out:  
“GRYFFINDOR!”


End file.
